Fanks Be

I took the girls to church--Sam didn't go with us, which was really my fault this time. I decided at the last minute that I did indeed want to go (we've been pretty derelict in our church attendance--more on that later), and he helped me get the girls ready instead of getting ready himself. When we got there, there wasn't anyone in the nursery, so I brought both girls into the service with me. We have 20-25 minutes of singing first, which Allison Clare likes, but this time she had spotted the chocolate milk I had brought as a bribe to get her to stay in the nursery, so she kept asking for it rather loudly. Fortunately, no one could hear her over the music, so I held her off. At the end of the singing, our pastor began a prayer, and everyone bowed their heads and closed their eyes.

Except Allison Clare, who looked around and said happily and loudly, "Mommy! Close eyes. Go sleep now! Mommy close eyes, go sleep!" So I quickly pulled out the milk and gave it to her, hoping it would quiet her down. Nope: "Fank you, Mommy!" I tried to shush her, but she just kept saying even more loudly, "FANK YOU, MOMMY! FANK YOU!" She said it six times or so, until I realized she was trying to get me to say "You're welcome," which I finally did. She quieted down and drank her milk, and I took the opportunity to put Gillian into the stroller and sneak out before our disgrace was increased further. Ah, worship.